World of Glass
by asthiathien
Summary: The Star Force and Desslok of Gamilon have been fighting a hopeless war against an enemy with psychic abilities of a level only seen before from Trelaina of Telezart. Now, they are defeated in all but name, their lives in the hands of a ruthless foe. It is the endgame - but who will fall?


Desslok looked the enemy directly in the eyes, trying and hopefully succeeding to hide the trepidation, and even the faintest touch of fear, that he held deep within.

The only saving grace was that Talan was far from the action, safely aboard the _Excelsior_ somewhere in orbit. If he had been here, he would never have had the nerve to carry off the insane plan he was about to put into action.

And it was insane, even by his standards. Desslok was fairly certain his sanity was, to put it politely, "shaky" at the best of times, but even _he_ was having trouble trying to ignore his more logical side informing him that the plan had less than a .00047% chance of succeeding, and his instincts screaming at him _to just RUN already and get out of here before all this madness explodes in your face!_

The enemy finished off his irrelevant speech and aimed his weapon directly at him. The firearm was just a formality, of course, a little bit of symbolism to drive the point home that he was truly superior because the normal ways this particular opponent destroyed his enemies was less direct than simply putting a blaster bolt through their heart.

He drew in a breath, knowing it would give the appearance of fear but unable to remain emotionless in the face of the supreme nervousness that he felt now. Everything hinged on this one moment. If the plan was going to fail, he would know right now. And if it _did_ fail, the universe would fall with it.

But if it succeeded, even if he was killed during its execution, he would die at peace, since he had pulled off this final, greatest masterpiece.

The enemy fired. And then, as if in perfect clarity, another blast streaked across its flight path, absorbing the projectile and destroying it.

He let out a single sigh of relief, since this had been part of the plan, too. All that was to happen next was linked, following inexorably, no matter what other insignificant things happened. Not even he, its grand architect, could stop this now.

* * *

Desslok knew his continual smirking was only solidifying the widespread belief that he was a complete madman, but he could not help it, and since the first few stages had succeeded in getting the Star Force out of danger as planned, he knew he had the liberty to do so. After this, it would all be irrelevant, no matter what else happened.

The enemy had tried to use his abilities to stop the chaos now coming to life all around him, but he was intelligent enough to be able to realize all his interference was only making it all worse. Now, he simply stood, staring at him.

"This is all your doing," he said simply. "I know not how, but I know you were the only one capable of this—this _impossibility_!"

Desslok smiled and gestured around him, an explosion behind him framing him in bright scarlet fire. "This is not merely _impossible_; this is sheer madness. And that has ever been my signature."

"I will find a way to stop this," the enemy vowed, a fierce, angry light shining in his eyes. "And mark my words, _Gamilon_, that it will be long before you are given the chance to die!"

Desslok flung back his head and laughed, the mocking sound echoing coldly even above the battle still raging. He had planned for that, too, of course. "You _can't_ stop it," he said, voice still tinged with mirth. "_Nothing_ you do will be able to affect the outcome. The instant this battle broke out, you had already lost."

He saw the flash of understanding in his eyes, then the seeds of an idea, and smiled icily at him. "I've planned for that, as well. I knew my nature would never allow me to let you die without you knowing of how you failed. Your knowledge of this plan will not help you to survive this day."

There was silence, then, as he digested the idea, then in a soft voice, "_How_? This is impossible, even for you. _No one_ can create something like this!"

"There is a Terran theory," Desslok said softly, "that _something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world_." He waved his hand towards the battlefield, somehow encompassing its entirety in a single gesture. "I set all this into motion with only a few simple moves of the gameboard, and I knew what it would all become in the end. Because to me, the world is naught but glass, so how could I not succeed in this endeavor?"

He saw his opponent's eyes widen as he understood, and raise his hand to fire the killing blow, but Desslok was faster. He dodged the bolt of pure energy and darted in to his side, a slender shard of Gamilashium slipping in between the creature's ribs and to his vital organs.

Any other living being would have been dead then, but that power that was magic suffused his body and ensured that the injury was not lethal, but a mere inconvenience. With all the speed and skill that he was well acquainted with from their long war, he spun himself free and fired.

The blast sent him spinning away, a brief flare of pure agony assaulting his mind before being squashed mercilessly by long-honed instinct. He caught himself on his hands and knees, shoving himself smoothly to his feet and facing the enemy. He had a look of shock and something approaching fear on his face, an expression only increased by the cruel smile Desslok gave him.

_Um, you should really be dead right now,_ said the part of his mind long since consigned to dealing with his injuries while the rest of his consciousness ignored them completely. _And I mean that. His last blast went right through your heart and you're covered in blood, you really should be dead by now—_

"Any last words, Desslok?" the enemy asked as he began to gather his magic to him, not even bothering to remove the dagger sticking out of his side.

"Killing me will do nothing."

Everyone froze. "What?"

He went on smiling, even knowing how demonic it made him look with his mortal wounds. "I do not lie. I told you nothing you could do would affect the outcome. Not even my death."

_Speaking of which, you are going to collapse in five minutes at the very most; half of one is the far more likely scenario. You need to get medical attention _now_, or you will die._

_No,_ he whispered back. _I will see this through to the end._

_That will kill you._

_This is my final play. This is my _masterpiece_, and I will see its resolution._

There was silence, which was acceptance of his last move.

He spread his hands, still smirking at his enemy. "This is my victory, all that you will ever see of it."

He saw the dawning horror and realization on the opponent's face, even as he raised his hands to shield—

Nothing happened.

His enemy's eyes widened in fear, the single word _Gamilashium_ rising to his lips—

And then Desslok sent a single dagger of power, the power his dagger had rerouted from the enemy into him, directly to the heart of the bomb placed beneath the pavilion.

And the world exploded in white.

* * *

Wildstar ran forward, ignoring the blaster bolts that still crisscrossed the area, his vision still dancing with black spots from the blinding explosion—

He had never really been Desslok's friend, but the years of war and tentative alliance had revealed to him both the madness and the brilliance hiding behind his dark eyes.

As he dashed across the cobbled pavement towards his fallen ally, he relived the moments that had led up to this single moment of dark reckoning.

_Fear threatening to choke him even as he stood tall behind Desslok, refusing to give in._

_The blast flashing between the two leaders, catching the killing shot._

_A lightning-fast move as the young Gamilon Leader slid his dagger into the enemy's body._

_The opponent retaliating with a burst of fire that struck directly to his heart as he went flying; yet, Desslok refused to fall, still standing in defiance even as blood coursed from both the mortal blow in his chest and a slash across his face._

_The entire world being absorbed by white._

He reached his side, falling to his knees amidst broken glass as he remembered a moment an eternity ago. . .

_"__You're going to get yourself killed!"_

_Dark, fiery eyes, gazing directly at him and seeming to pierce his very soul. "If that happens," he said softly, "then I shall die satisfied, knowing I have accomplished_ _Ikila keliki'miderak."_

Now he knew what that meant. Had Desslok known, even then, everything that was to happen? Had he seen the final resolution with his strange, perfect vision?

Wildstar reached out and gently laid his hand over top of his former enemy's. Desslok was still now, in a way he had never been able to be while he was alive. There had always been a fire blazing within him that he had never seen even fade.

His dark eyes were closed, and despite the awful wound marring his chest, there was no pain to his features.

"Your plan worked, Desslok," Wildstar whispered. "You won."

Then he bowed his head, blinking as tears pricked at his eyes.

He walked slowly onto _Excelsior_'s bridge, Nova holding his hand tightly in hers. Talan was seated in the command chair, the shattered leg that had confined him here propped up beside him.

He looked up as they approached, and before Wildstar could even speak Talan bowed his head in sorrow.

He swallowed hard; the two of them had obviously been friends, even though Desslok's paranoia made it impossible for him to trust anyone else. He imagined losing him now would feel like how he had lost Alex back in 2199.

"Talan," he said softly; the Gamilon raised his head, pain clearly etched in every line of his features, but his eyes were dry. "What does _Ikila keliki'miderak_ mean?"

Talan's eyes widened, and then the tears began to gather. "_My final masterpiece_," he whispered.

All around the bridge, the screens suddenly changed to display a myriad of information, and a smile found its way to Wildstar's face even as a wave of sorrow overcame him.

* * *

Desslok's hands were folded lightly over the mortal wound in his chest, and also over a slender Gamilashium sword that had been wielded in battle by all the Leaders of Gamilon. He had seen that sword in Desslok's hand often enough during their long war.

Though he could not see it, a protective shield hovered around him now, an enchantment woven into Gamilon's very stones that was set to protect her children from any and all hostile forces for all eternity.

The slash across his face was still visible, but the same protective shield had healed it in some strange way, leaving only a faint red line where it had once been.

They stood on Gamilon's surface now, a wind blowing through Wildstar's hair and carrying delicate silver-white blossoms like the cherry blossoms of Japan. This world had been restored to her former glory, before the seismic activity that had transformed her into a wasteland. The plans for it had been among the information revealed on the same day that he had died; a slew of diagrams and calculations that allowed the Cosmo DNA to heal this world just as it had Earth. He wondered when Desslok had found the time to create it, amidst all the plotting that had led to the final victory. They had figured out only a sliver of what had led to that fateful day when their victory was achieved; yet even that was almost unprecedented in its sheer genius.

Talan looked over at him; he wore the fiery crown of Leader now, for he had been coronated just that day. That, too, had been in the files Desslok had sent to them, and had surprised very few. Wildstar knew that Talan would be able to bear it, and bear it well.

There were many other Terrans here, too; they had recognized that Desslok's sacrifice had saved them, and from now unto eternity they would be allies. Wildstar wondered if he had seen that, as well. It would not be surprising.

The tomb slid closed, a dome of brilliant crystal that flashed brightly in the sun. At the head, in the fashion of a tombstone, a spire of Gamilashium pierced the blue-green sky.

Wildstar removed Alex's Astro-automatic from its holster, weighing it lightly in his hand, then set it at the monument's base. The shield crackled slightly as the sidearm passed through, then settled. It would protect the old weapon from all the ravages of time.

Wildstar got to his feet, looking up towards the endless sky. At the spire's base, the Astro-automatic half-obscured a single line of writing.

_Erisil'eili fel Hilfir._

_Brilliance in Madness._

Some might have thought it strange. He thought it fitting, and he was rather certain Desslok agreed.


End file.
